


A Father's Love

by deianaera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Gaslighting, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1542419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deianaera/pseuds/deianaera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron's love for his daughter transcends death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Father's Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written from [Prompt # 53](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/67791.html?thread=906959#t906959)
> 
>  
> 
> I don't usually write dark!fic and I managed to creep myself out while writing this, so I'm hoping that's a good sign. Much love to the mods and to Shan, who stepped up to beta this for me. Amorette, thank you for an interesting prompt. Readers, enjoy.

More than anything or anyone in the world, Ron loved his daughter, Rose. He loved her bright blue eyes, a mirror of his own, and the way they lit up when she smiled or laughed. He loved the way they glistened with tears when she was being punished, her head twisted over her shoulder to plead with him to end her spanking early because it hurt too much. He loved the peaches and cream skin she had inherited from her mother, Hermione. It would pale when she was frightened and flush when she was embarrassed, but most of all the impression his hand left in her bare flesh could stain her buttocks for days. He loved the soft, full lips she got from Hermione, too. They were amazing when stretched wide in a grin, flashing even white teeth. They felt incredible delivering hesitant kisses when she was just starting to show how sorry she was. But, like her mother before her, they were perfect stretched wide around the base of his cock. Most of all, he loved the way she said, "Daddy." Sometimes, it was innocent, like when her brother or her mother were present. But when it was just them, it was her promise to be his perfect, darling girl. It was her way of encouraging him to help her be a better daughter when she was bad and didn't want to take care of her daddy the way daughters are supposed to. He loved his Rose and made sure to show her how much every chance he had.

 

It was early enough in the evening during the summer between Rose's 5th and 6th year that Hermione was still at work. With Hugo spending the summer with Harry and Ginny's brood, that left him alone with his Rose. She was waiting for him in her bedroom. He turned the knob, and found it securely locked. He flushed, his lips curling in a snarl. He wanted to reward his daughter for her 10 OWLs and now she was going to make him punish her. 

 

A quick " _Alohomora_ " opened the door and he spied Rose cowering on the far side of her bed, her shirt sliding to bare her shoulder. He smirked. She knew when she deserved to be punished and, like all bad girls, was trying to get out of it by showing some skin. He closed the door gently behind him and strode forward. He sat on the bed next to where she waited, trembling with anticipation. He stroked her hair, the same bushy curls her mother had at her age. When she started to make a whining noise in her throat, he fisted his hand in her hair to make her be silent. Her blue eyes went so wide when he did that. He smiled and released her. She began to shift, getting ready to take care of him, as though she didn't know she'd earned a punishment.

 

He said quietly but firmly, in his best Daddy voice, "Go get the hairbrush."

 

Rose moved away from him, then shook her head. Her voice was quavering, but she said, "No."

 

Ron felt the anger rise to his face, turning his skin an ugly red. He struggled to be the father he knew she needed, taking a moment to calm himself before speaking. "Do as I say, Rose. Go get your brush for Daddy. You know you earned a punishment for trying to lock the door. Your defiance will only make it worse." 

 

She surprised him, rolling off the bed and bolting for the door. She wrenched at the handle, finding it unresponsive. He stood and walked slowly over to her, grabbing her by the shoulder and spinning her around to face him. "That just doubled your punishment, Rose."

 

He shook her in his grasp, surprised at how fragile she seemed. He would have to watch her like a hawk, make sure she was eating properly. He loved the gentle curves of her coltish figure, so much like his sister at that age. Fortunately, Hermione could help him manage that task. Before he lost his focus, he tossed her onto the bed and Summoned the brush. It flew across the room into his waiting hand from the depths of her closet.

 

Prepared now, he turned back to Rose on the bed, still lying where he'd tossed her, flat on her stomach. He took a seat next to her, the bed dipping with his weight. Rose was all sobs now, repentant because she knew she would be punished, not because she was truly sorry for having misbehaved. Well, she would be soon enough. It was his job as her Daddy to make sure she paid the price for her transgressions.

 

It was a moment's work to manhandle Rose over his lap; she was too light, he really would have to ask Hermione to keep an eye on her and make sure she was eating properly – and another moment to divest her of her clothing. He took a moment to admire her creamy, pale skin and the tender swell of her buttocks, running his hand along her flank before he picked up her hairbrush. 

 

The hairbrush was the special one he bought her at thirteen, a heavy silver brush with a gilded pattern raised on the back. The set had come with a matching comb and hand mirror, but he'd had eyes only for the brush, knowing it would be perfect for her the moment he'd seen it in Borgin and Burkes.

 

He raised his arm, the brush a heavy, reassuring weight in his hand, and landed the first strike on the swell of her left buttock. Rose squealed in his lap and squirmed, again using her antics to escape punishment. But Ron was determined to be a good father despite her antics. He continued to spank her, alternating cheeks and placement as Rose sobbed and whimpered in his lap. 

 

Finally, he could see the first true welts raised on her perfect skin, now ranged a delightful shade of red. She had ceased begging and even writhing, accepting her punishment with increasing sobs. He set aside the hairbrush, at peace that his darling Rose had been punished. He lifted her up and cradled her on his lap. Gently, he whispered how much he loved her on the pink shell of her ear, letting his breath tease her calm. Slowly, her sobs calmed and she began to snuggle against his shoulder.

 

He could feel how ready she was to show him she was sorry by the careful breathing on his neck. She trembled in his arms and Ron was overwhelmed with love for this beautiful creature of his.

 

"Oh, my Rose. Are you sorry you were disobedient?" he whispered into the coral pink shell of her ear.

 

She tensed in his lap and he knew she was afraid she had earned more punishment, but Ron was forgiving. She'd been given what she had earned and the slate was clean. On his shoulder, he could feel the movement of her head.

 

Ron leaned back and cupped her jaw in his hand, guiding her gaze to his. "You need to speak up, my Rose."

 

He felt more than heard the tearful hiccup as she whispered, "Yes, Daddy."

 

He let go of her chin so he could caress her face, streaking her tears into her mess of hair. Gently, he kissed the corner of her beautiful, plush mouth. He let his hand stroke her hair and when a tremor raced through her body and she inadvertently jerked away from him, he let his hand fist in her curls to hold her in place. She whimpered and he knew she was ready to show him how much she loved her Daddy. He brought his lips back to her ear and said, "Say it, my Rose."

 

Another tremor and he tightened his grip on her hair, drawing another mewling cry from his beloved Rose. She cried, "Daddy!" 

 

Ron loosened his grip on her curls. He really didn't want to cause her pain. He relaxed his arms and laid back across his little girl's bed and waited.

 

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she slid from hip lap to the floor, kneeling between his feet. Her eyes were framed by thick damp lashes and he marveled at how beautiful she was. He savored the feel of her small hands sliding up his thighs and undoing the stiff leather belt at his waist. The sight of his angelic Rose kneeling, preparing to show her Daddy how much she loved him… the moment made his heart race and his breath quicken.

 

Her tiny fingers carefully undid the fly of his trousers and parted the flaps. The head of his cock was already leaking pre-come and he was so hard he knew he had slipped out of the slit in the front of his boxers. Her hands were cold as she pulled his full length out of the slit. His eyes rolled back in his head when he felt her warm breath counter the chill of her brief touch.

 

"Oh yes, my Rose, show Daddy how much you love him," he breathed.

 

Oh, he loved his Rose. Ron could feel with each tentative lick and gentle sucking on the head how much his little girl loved her daddy. He waited, fighting the urge to thrust into her mouth, to see her lips stretched around the base of his cock; the moment would come. Still, impatient and eager, he sat up straighter on the bed, the better to watch his little girl.

 

He groaned as the timid caresses and kisses transitioned into more. Her head was now bobbing up and down the length of his shaft, her tongue teasing the vein as her mouth slid back and forth. Still, it wasn't quite enough; she wasn't letting him into her throat, wasn't taking his full length into her mouth. He tried to let his little girl do this on her own – after all, Hermione always stressed the importance of letting the kids explore their limits without their interference – but Ron couldn't restrain himself any longer. He slid his hands into Rose's soft curls and thrust into her mouth. 

 

Finally, he could feel her lips around the base of his shaft, the sputtering choking squeezing glory that was her throat. He held her still as he thrust once, twice, and three times into her mouth before he came with a roar.

 

Panting, he let go of her head and slid from her mouth, soft and coated with odd streaks of come mixed with her saliva. With deft movements, he tucked his cock into his boxers, zipped up his trousers, and fastened his belt. Rose knelt on the floor at his feet, her head bowed, her mouth agape. His come was dripping from her lips. He groaned at the sight. How better could a daughter prove her love for her Daddy than to meet all his needs?

 

Gently, he picked Rose up and laid her in her bed, pulling the covers over her and tucking her in. He kissed her swollen mouth and her forehead, before murmuring, " _Somnulus_." He watched her relax and sigh once as she slipped into a deep sleep.

 

Ron closed the door on his now–sleeping daughter and went to take a shower. Hermione would be home soon and he knew that she wouldn't understand how much his daughter loved him.

* * *

The next morning, Ron awoke at seven to find himself alone in bed, as usual. Hermione, his overly–intelligent and overly–ambitious witch of a wife, would already be off for work despite the early hour. He began to feel the old anger and resentment burn in his chest when he recalled that it was summer and his darling Rose would awaken from her slumber soon. With a bounce, he hurried downstairs to get some tea and breakfast. He couldn't wait to spend the day with his little girl.

 

Ron bounded into the kitchen and skidded to a halt. Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of her coffee and flipping through the Prophet. She didn't even look up from the paper as she murmured, "Good morning, Ron."

 

"What are you doing home? Did the Ministry collapse overnight while you took a quick break?" he sneered.

 

"Don't be ridiculous," she replied evenly. "It's Sunday."

 

Ron bit his tongue and glanced at the calendar on the wall. She was right, it was Sunday, the one day of the week she would reliably be home, though he suspected that was only because there was no one at work to boss around. HIs hopes of spending the day with his daughter dashed, Ron flopped into his chair opposite his wife. Arms folded across his chest, he sat there, wondering how he could salvage his plans. He wanted to take Rose flying over the countryside; she loved to fly and he loved to see her astride a broom.

 

"Would you like some tea?" Hermione asked. 

 

He looked up and found Hermione had moved into the kitchen for more coffee.

 

"Sure," he replied absently, sinking back into his thoughts, picturing how Rose looked flying, her hair whipped back by the wind and the flush of excitement in her cheeks. She always loved to lead him on a chase…

 

"Here you go," Hermione said and she placed a cup of tea before him with a pot of milk and a pot of sugar.

 

Ron began to pour the milk and sugar – lots of each – into the cup. He had no idea how someone as supposedly brilliant as Hermione could fail to brew a proper cup of tea. Rose was as smart as her mother and had been able to since she was seven. He sipped the creamy sweet liquid absently. Thinking on Rose, he remembered her fragility from last night and decided since she was actually here for a change, he should mention it to Hermione.

 

"Hermione?" he said.

 

"Yes?"

 

"I noticed last night, Rose seemed a little fragile. Like she's lost some weight. You don't think she's been doing one of those fad potion diets from Witch Weekly, do you?"

 

Hermione set her coffee cup down with a heavy thud and looked straight at him with her patented 'You are truly a moron' stare. "No, I don't."

 

"Do you think it's a growth spurt, then?" Ron continued.

 

Hermione took a deep breath and picked her cup back up. "Maybe," she said with a sigh. "After I finish my coffee, I'll check her over with a diagnostic spell. We'll make sure she's okay."

 

Ron sighed with relief. He gulped his tea down as Hermione finished her coffee so he could join her in checking up on his Rose. Hermione, as always, took the lead and he followed behind her. She entered Rose's room and Ron noticed that his angel was just waking up. He was relieved; it would have been hard to cast Finite Incantatem without Hermione noticing.

 

Hermione leaned over and pressed a kiss to Rose's forehead, brushing her hair back. "Good morning, baby," she said with a smile. Ron remembered when she would smile for him. She never did anymore.

 

Rose sat up and stretched, smiling back at her mother and Ron tried and failed to remember the last time his angel smiled for him. No matter, she had better ways of expressing her love for her Daddy.

 

"Morning, Mum," Rose said brightly. She looked over her mum's shoulder at him and her face set into neutral. "Morning Daddy."

 

"Morning, angel," he said with a smile.

 

Hermione smiled at Rose. "Your dad's worried that you've lost some weight. I'm going to run a quick diagnostic spell and make sure you're okay."

 

Rose's gaze darted to his before darting back to her mother's and she nodded. "Okay, Mum."

 

Hermione slipped her wand from her sleeve and gave it a soft swish. Rose was highlighted in a rainbow aura that was dull grey around her head, her breasts, and her pussy. Ron slipped his wand from his own sleeve. Hermione was going to ask questions. Just like last time. He prepared himself to Obliviate her memory at a moment's notice.

 

His concentration was shattered as Hermione whipped around and screamed " _Stupify_ , you bastard!"

 

The time he'd spent in Auror training never left him. He was moving to the side as the red beam of the spell just passed him, leaving a scorching blast on the wall. Ducking and rolling, he shifted to the far side of Rose's bed and fired a blasting hex straight at Hermione's face. She deflected it with a Shield Charm and tried again with another Stunner, which just barely missed Rose. Ron saw red and pulled Rose out of bed to get her out of the line of fire.

 

The sudden cracking sound that Rose's neck made when she hit the ground made him pause long enough for Hermione to actually stun him.

* * *

Ron woke on the floor of Rose's room, the sick crack of breaking bone echoing in his head. Aching in his bones and full of dread, he struggled to sit up. He brought his head level with the top of the bed, then gasped and fell back down to the floor. Rose, his beautiful perfect Rose, lay still on the bed, her head bent at an impossible angle to her body.

 

Terror and fear and sorrow – emotions he hadn't felt since Fred died – coursed through him and overwhelmed his ability to reason. He began to pant and he knew he was getting ready to sob. It was instinct more than reason that pulled him up from the floor and led him to crawl on the bed next to his daughter. The feel of her cooling skin made her death horribly real and he spooned her corpse against him and let himself sob into her beautiful cloud of hair.

 

As soon as he released the grieving keening noise he had been holding back, he heard Hermione.

 

"You sick, sick, bastard. You killed her. You killed our daughter," she said. Her voice was as flat and as dead as Rose.

 

Ron ignored her. This was her fault; she would not twist it around onto him. He rocked Rose against him, as though motion could restore her life. Hermione's iron grip arrested the movement; she pulled him away from Rose, dragging him bodily out of the bed and dumping him without ceremony on the floor.

 

" _Protego_ ," she murmured, surrounding Rose's body with a shield. Before he could react, he watched as she snatched his wand from his grasp.

 

" _Incarcerous_." He found himself bound on the floor, propped against the bed. He wanted to whimper. His daughter was dead and Hermione was reacting like he always feared she would if she knew how special Rose was to him. Hermione sat down at Rose's vanity bench and eyed him like she would a particularly repellent potion ingredient. Like she always had. She said in that same uninflected tone, "Now I need you to listen to me, Ron. Our daughter, our daughter that you abused and molested and raped, is dead."

 

Ron couldn't help it, he flinched as much as he could in his bonds. He knew she wouldn't understand, but this was worse than he had allowed himself to think. 

 

"I've been thinking. We can't afford for this to become public knowledge. I have finally been nominated to head the MLE. It's my chance to really affect change and be seated on the Wizengamot. If this gets out, it would ruin my career. You would spend the rest of your life in Azkaban. And, I promise you Ron, I would make sure that your life there would be as long and as miserable as any wizard would fear.

 

"And, it would destroy your family. It would destroy Harry. I could even threaten the peace we've worked so hard to build. I won't let you do that." Hermione rose from the bench and began to pace their child's small room, passion for a cause – the only kind she let herself feel – infusing her voice. "No, I won't. Here's what we're going to do: we'll hide Rose's body and tell everyone that she's visiting my parents in Sydney. That will keep everyone from wondering where she is for the summer. After a couple of months, when Rose is due back at Hogwarts and my position is secure, we'll tell everyone she died in Australia. We'll hold a funeral, let people see us mourn. 

 

"Once that's done, I never want to see you again. You will never step foot in this house again after that day. We will file quietly for divorce next year and I will have sole custody of Hugo. If I even think you harmed another child, I will personally castrate you."

 

She stomped over toward him and pressed her wand against his groin. "Do you understand me?" she hissed.

 

Ron was afraid. Even during the war, he had never seen her this angry. She was vibrating with it. Terror turned his bones to water and he nodded.

 

"Good," she spat, rising to her feet. She waved her wand and his bonds disappeared. He scrambled to his feet, glancing at his daughter behind the Shield Charm. If it wasn't for her neck, she could be a princess in a Muggle fairy tale. He reached for her, to touch her one last time. The sharp pain of a stinging hex made him pull his hand back in shock. He looked over at Hermione.

 

"Never again, Ron. Get the hell out of my sight for a while or I swear I will kill you too and to hell with the consequences."

 

Ron walked toward the door, his feet obeying his wife. He paused on the threshold. "Can I have my wand back?" he asked quietly. He could summon an illusion, maybe even transfigure something into Rose's image…His wand sailed over his shoulder and smashed into pieces on the floor down the hall. 

 

"That will give you something to do while I fix this."

 

Ron crawled on the floor of the hall and began to gather the shards on his wand when Hermione slammed the door closed to Rose's room.

 

Hermione emerged shortly after he finished gathering the splinters of his wand together, holding a large, smooth–barked log. She cradled it in her arms like she had their children. He sat in the living room and watched her.

 

"Is that…" he choked on the words.

 

She glared at him, her own eyes as red–rimmed as his. "Yes. I'm going to bury her in the garden." she walked past him, headed for the backyard. He rose to his feet to join her, but she stopped him. "Don't, Ron. Just, just go. Let me bury my daughter in peace."

 

"She was my daughter too," he whispered. He wanted to shout, but he knew shouting never worked with Hermione.

 

"The day you touched her she stopped being your daughter. Go. Go get your wand fixed, go get drunk, go throw yourself off a damn cliff. Just go."

* * *

It was hours later, when after purchasing a new wand and numbing himself with more Firewhisky and Muggle whisky than he suspected his liver could process, he Apparated home. The part of his brain that wasn't consumed by his grief thought that dying of splinching or even alcohol poisoning wouldn't be as bad as living without Rose. 

 

He stumbled into the house he shared with Hermione and went to go to bed, but found the door warded against him. Woozy and aching from the stinging hex Hermione used to barricade the door, he went down the hall. He figured he'd sleep in Hugo's room tonight and tomorrow make sure he warded Hermione – cold bitch – out of their room. As he passed Rose's room, he stopped cold. His angel lay on her bed, still. He dashed forward, ready to cuddle her to him, and stumbled over the area rug, landing on his face. It took three tries for him to regain his feet and when he did, the bed was empty and the only sign of life was the fluttering curtain at her window. Tears burned his eyes and he flung himself on his angel's empty bed. Grabbing ahold of her pillow, he buried his face in it and cried.

 

The next morning, he woke in Rose's bed, alone. Ron sat in the wreckage of blankets and pillows and sighed, then winced. He could have sworn he saw Rose asleep in her bed last night when he came home, but he didn't. She was dead and Hermione had spirited her body away. Oh, how jealous would she be to learn that Rose was not her daughter, not her equal, but her superior in every way?

 

He carefully cracked his eyes open and winced again as sunlight stabbed his brain. He'd tried to drink himself to death in one night. Oh, he missed his little girl already! He looked around the room, his eyes squinted to minimize the wounding light. He wanted to take her rabbit with him. Poncy, the rabbit she'd been gifted with by Hermione's parents when she was only two, was her favourite. She had slept with it for ages and even though she'd outgrown such things, she still kept it close.

 

His eyes opened wide and he ignored the pain in his skull as he began to search frantically for the rabbit. He ripped the blankets off the bed and tore through the few clothes in her closet, but was unable to find it. He had to. It would be the perfect link to his Rose, something he could keep with him even after Hermione ground what was left of his soul into the dirt.

 

He dashed into the hall and saw a mane of brown hair. 

 

"Rose? Rose!" he shouted, reaching for her.

 

HIs hand touched only air and the brown hair was gone.

 

He tore the entire house apart, turning every cushion over, upending every bookshelf, looking for a hidden passage, a trick, but found nothing. His Rose was still dead and… was he seeing her ghost?

 

He dashed into the middle of the wrecked living room, shouting, "Rose? My angel, can you hear me? Are you a ghost? Please, let me see you!"

 

Nothing answered him back and again, he just wanted to weep. From the the pile on the floor, he heard the grandfather clock chime ten. Sighing, he picked his way through the wrecked living room – let Hermione fix that! – and stepped outside to the apparation point in the garden. He twisted on his foot and popped into the employees only section of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Grabbing an apron, he draped himself in the magenta preferred by Fred and therefore unchanged in the two decades since his passing and walked out onto the floor.

 

School was out and wizarding children ran like packs of wild animals in Diagon Alley. The post–war baby boom still hadn't truly abated and as a result, the store was packed from open until close. Ron began to move through the crowd, helping patrons by rote, registering their needs and meeting them without thinking.

 

He was helping a young pair of women searching for the perfect gift for a hen party when heard the word "Daddy," expressed with such reverence that it snapped him out of his daze.

 

He looked up from the Perfect Match Potion display and looked for the source. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her – Rose.

 

He pushed the patrons away and started to shove through the crowd to his daughter. "Rose! Rose!" he hollered.

 

He followed her out of the store, nearly tripping over his own feet in his hurry to catch her. The Alley's foot traffic wandered by, but Rose was gone.

 

"Rose!" he cried. He was so lost without her.

 

He trudged back into the store. Before he made it ten steps, George's strong hand grabbed him and pulled him behind the counter.

 

"I don't know what's wrong with you and I don't care. You ever shove a customer again and I'll fire you, Ron." George hissed.

 

"I, I thought I saw Rose." he said lamely. He didn't really care all that much for working in his brother's store, but it was a living and if he got fired by George, his mother wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

 

George looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. "Why would you think you saw Rose? Hermione told me this morning you'd be in late because you were taking her to the airy–port."

 

He felt his jaw drop, feeling well and truly gobsmacked for a moment. How could Goerge not know Rose was gone… Hermione. _I'm going to tell everyone she's gone to visit my parents for the summer,_ her prissy voice echoed in his head.

 

"Oh, oh yeah," he replied, trying to cover and knowing his ears were turning beet red. "Yeah, but you know I don't trust those Muggle contraptions. Maybe she snuck off and is trying to meet a boy here, huh? I know your Roxy's not that age yet, but trust me, when she is, you'll be as paranoid as I am."

 

George shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. "Yeah, yeah, stop it with all the 'old man' crap. Just take care of the customers and don't _ever_ shove one of them like I saw you do earlier again."

 

He felt his hand snap up in a mock salute. "Yes sir!"

 

George gave him one last back slap before heading for the back of the store. Ron let the false normal he'd tried to project fade and he began to meander through the crowd, once again, being helpful in an absent daze.

 

Ron finished his day and headed to the Burrow for dinner, as he usually did when it was just him. He thought about going home, but he knew that the only way his home would be less welcoming would be if Hermione was there. Besides, he didn't want to see Rose's ghost again. It was hard enough to pretend to be normal without seeing her everywhere he looked.

 

He landed on the hill overlooking the house and walked toward it with a sigh. He knew that he shouldn't come here if he really wanted to keep Rose's death a secret. His mother's ability to worm information out of all of her children – but him especially – was legendary. Still he walked toward the lopsided home with its warm light shining from each window. Deep down, he wanted her to find out. To ruin Hermione's reputation once and for all, to shatter the idea that they were somehow heroic. If the world knew that she had killed her own daughter, even by accident, she'd rot in Azkaban for the rest of her life. He would be free to grieve and mourn and find someone to help him reach out to her ghost.

 

He stopped in his tracks and tried to think it through. It could work. If he could convince everyone it had been her fault, share with them how she'd wanted to hide the body and cover up the crime because she was nominated to head the MLE and take a seat on the Wizengamot, why, she would be ruined. He grinned. Oh, what a tribute to his Rose, showing up her jealous harridan of a mother.

 

He walked quickly to the kitchen door, the scent of just done pot roast caressing his nose. "Hey, Mum! What's for dinner?" he said loudly, taking a seat at the table.

 

"Oh, Ron!" his mum said, bustling over to the table with a serving tray laden with beef and steaming root vegetables. She set the tray on the table and kissed his cheek. "Hermione said we might expect you. You always take it so hard when Rose leaves. I made one of your favourites for dinner."

 

She took her seat at the head of the table, opposite his dad. He was the only one home for dinner tonight. The others would all be home with their loving spouses who cooked and were proper wives. Sighing, he dug in. Pot roast was always a favourite of his and with five older brothers, it was hard to get the best pieces, the ones full of fatty flavor. 

 

Afterward, he loosened his belt and said, "You said Hermione told you I might be by."

 

"Yes, dear," his mum said. "She said that you had to take Rose to the airport this morning, that she was going to go visiting her grandparents in Australia for the remainder of the summer. I know how down you get when she leaves for the school year and we both thought you wouldn't want to be alone in a big, empty house."

 

Ron grabbed his mother's hands in his and stared at her in the eyes. "Mum, listen to me, I didn't take Rose to the airport this morning."

 

He felt her try to pull her hands away, but he held on tighter. "Mum, you have to listen to me. Hermione killed Rose last night."

 

This time, she was able to jerk her hands free from his grasp. Before he could react, he felt the heavy slap she delivered to his head and the ringing that accompanied it.

 

"Ronald Billius Weasley! What in the name of Merlin has gotten into you? How could you say something so horrible? And about your wife and child!" his mother exclaimed.

 

Reaching to rub his aching head, he muttered, "But it's true!"

 

He watched as his mother's eyes filled with tears and he swore under his breath. Abandoning his aching head and his hope of undermining Hermione, he sighed and got up to hug his mum. "Mum, I'm sorry. It's just… things aren't going well with me and Hermione."

 

She reached up to grasp his hands gently. "I know marriage isn't always easy, but you can't go spreading outrageous lies like that, Ron. Too often, the lie becomes the truth and then there's no way to take it back."

 

Ron's eyes went wide and he slid free of his mother's hold. Hermione was telling everyone lies so when the truth came out, he would be responsible, not her! He had to go find her, now, and get her to give up this scheme. Giving his mum a brief hug, he kissed the top of her head and said, "Thanks for dinner, Mum. I have to go. I'm going to try and talk to Hermione."

 

He watched his mum smile, no trace of tears now. "You do that. And tell Hermione I said hello."

 

"I will," he replied, heading for the back door. 

 

Ron walked quickly to the hill and apparated home to the garden. He found the lights on, a clear sign his wife was home. His lip curled at the thought. He'd teach her not to make such a fool of him. Loudly banging open the door, he stomped into the kitchen, storming toward his wife, who was eating dinner.

 

"What are you on about? You think you can make this all my fault?" he demanded, slamming his fists on the dining table. He took grim satisfaction in upending her soup bowl into her lap.

 

Hermione glared at him and with a quick whip of her wand, cleaned herself and the mess he made. "I have no idea what your problem is this time, but if you don't start making sense, I will Silence you and go to bed."

 

He got into her face, bending down to leer at her. "Telling everyone Rose is in Australia so no one will know she's dead until you get your precious promotion. Then when it comes out, it'll all be my fault. You've told everyone how I took her to the airport, put her on a plane, so everyone will blame me. Not. Going. To. Happen," he stated, jabbing a finger into her bony chest to emphasize his words. How had he ever been attracted to such a woman? He needed a real woman, like his Rose.

 

Hermione showed her chair away from him. Suddenly, he found himself stiff as a board, his limbs snapped rigidly to his side, and falling to the floor. The bitch had Petrified him! He heard her footsteps come close, then the rustle of her Muggle clothes as she knelt by his head. "I don't know how you came up with this crazy idea that Rose is dead when you put her on a plane to Australia yourself this morning. In fact, she called shortly before you got home to let us know she landed safely and is with my parents now. They plan to take her hiking tomorrow.

 

"That said, let me make something very, very clear to you, Ron," she whispered, her voice light and breathy in his hear. "If you ever threaten me again in any way, I will crucify you. Promotion or no promotion, press or no press. Think about that." He heard the rustle of her clothes again, then her footsteps moving away. "Pleasant dreams," she called as she walked away.

 

He screamed silently in frustration as she left him jinxed on the floor.

* * *

Hermione left him there until she left for work the next morning. She cleared the jinx and slammed the door behind her without a word. Groaning, he gingerly sat upright, every muscle in his body seizing up and cramping. He collapsed back to the floor and rolled into the fetal position, every limb throbbing and twitching. Vaguely, he knew he needed to do something to help himself, but he couldn't even control his hand long enough to Summon a vial of pain relieving potion. He couldn't unlock his jaw long enough to say " _Accio_." He gave up for a moment, twitching on the floor, letting the pain eradicate his thoughts. Then, next to his head, he saw a pale hand set down a pink potion he recognized – the pain reliever.

 

With renewed vigor, he rolled onto his back and strained against the cramps to seize the bottle in his twisted fingers. He used his teeth to pry the stopper out and poured the liquid down his throat around it. He nearly cried when he felt the magic spread like the warmth of a summer day through his body, leaving aching but functional muscles in its wake.

 

Panting, he spit the stopper out of his mouth and tried again to sit up. Relieved, he was able to prop himself up like a doll against the kitchen wall. He looked around, but found himself alone. Rose. His darling Rose had helped him after his bitch of a wife made him suffer all night. 

 

Ron cackled maniacally. If he could prove she was dead, he could show everyone Hermione was a liar and a killer. He knew he was grinning like a maniac, but his Rose was on his side, was with him. Hermione wouldn't know what hit her.

 

He took a moment to Floo George and let him know that he wasn't coming in today, then crawled into Rose's room. He would rest and let his muscles finish sorting out, then he would begin to dig.

 

Crawling into Rose's room, he noticed how empty it was. Her closet was nearly devoid of clothes and her favorite stuffed animal, Poncy, was missing. Hermione had gone to great lengths to make it look like she'd left for a trip. He wondered if he'd find everything buried in the garden along with Rose's body. Wouldn't that be fun, letting Rita Skeeter photograph the evidence that Hermione had buried her daughter. Sighing, he curled up on his little girl's bed, and dozed, dreaming of Hermione in Azkaban.

 

Just moments later, he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and heard Rose whisper, "Daddy," and awoke with a start. He scrambled to his feet and saw his Rose, standing before him. She was pale and gauzy, dressed in flowing and tattered white robes. She reached for him, calling, "Daddy!" again.

 

"Oh baby, I'm here!" he said and reached for her outstretched hand. It passed right through her and he fell to the floor, unbalanced by the attempt. "NO!" he cried. Looking up, Rose was gone. Once again, he found himself feeling lost and terrified. His little girl, his reason for living, was gone. He'd failed her. He let Hermione kill her in her jealousy. Sniffling, he tried to stifle his tears. He had to find her, prove what Hermione had done, and then maybe he could see his little girl at peace.

 

Wiping his face, he got up and went into the backyard to start digging.

* * *

He was still digging when Hermione Apparated home that evening. He'd checked the herb bed, the flower bed, and the kids' sandbox without luck. He was starting on the roots of the old yew tree in the backyard.

 

"Oh my God, Ron, what in the name of Merlin are you doing?" he heard Hermione asked in her exasperated superior tone.

 

"Finding…my…daughter…" he panted in between shovelfuls of dirt.

 

"Ron," he heard her say cautiously. "She's not dead. She's in Australia, remember?"

 

He stuck his shovel into the earth, expecting to pull up more earth when he heard a heavy thunk. Frantically, he dropped to the ground, digging with his fingers, clawing back the dirt until he found it – the heavy club she'd turned their elder child into. Cradling it like a baby, he cooed at it, whispering, "It's okay Rose. I'll make her turn you back and then everyone will see what she's done."

 

He heard her reply, "Daddy," and looked up. He could see Hermione and behind her, pale and gauzy and luminous, was his Rose. 

 

"Look!" he screamed. "She's right there! If she's in Australia, how is her ghost right behind you?"

 

Hermione turned around, now face to face with Rose. She looked around then turned back to him. "Ron, there's nothing there except the mess you made of my herbs."

 

"Daddy," she said and Ron clutched her log body tight.

 

"She's right there! How can you not see her?" he cried. How could she not see it? Was she blind to what she'd done?

 

Hermione turned around again, waving her hands through Rose's ghostly form, scattering it into fading mist. 

 

"No!" His Rose was gone! Hermione had banished even the comfort of her ghost!

 

Using the tree for support, he climbed to his feet, holding onto the log with his other arm. He brandished it at her. "You made her ghost go away, Hermione…" he wanted it to sound accusing, but it sounding so plaintive to his ears, he knew she'd never be convinced.

 

"Change her back, please," he begged. "I need my Rose. I need to show everyone what you've done."

 

Hermione stepped backwards warily, her wand pointed at him. "Ron, please, put down the log. You're not well. You need help."

 

Enraged, he swung Rose's body at her, forcing her to retreat into the house. He screamed at her, "You're evil! You hated your own child because she was better than you could ever be and when you found out she loved me more than you, you killed her! Bitch! Whore! Mudblood! Come out here!"

 

She had slammed the door and activated the wards on the house, trapping him in the torn–up garden with Rose's body still a log. He screamed incoherently, then staggered over to the tree and sat down clumsily. He cradled his daughter's body in his arms. Maybe, if he showed her how much he loved her even now, Rose's ghost would appear for him again.

 

He barely registered the Aurors coming to arrest him until they tried to take his baby girl away from him. When he fought for her, they Stunned him into unconsciousness.

* * *

Ron woke strapped to a plain bed in a white–walled room. "Hello?" he called. 

 

"Oh, hello! You're awake!" A grey-haired matronly Healer bustled in. "Tell me, how are you feeling?"

 

"Like I was Stunned by a bunch of jumped–up goons," he muttered.

 

The Healer tsked at him. "No need to speak ill of our Aurors. You did, after all, threaten your wife. Such a lovely woman too."

 

"She killed our daughter!" he screamed at the officious, thoughtless bint.

 

"Oh dear, oh dear," she clucked at him, waving her wand to restore his restraints. "Well, it doesn't seem like you'll be moving with the other patients today. I'll check on you again in a bit and see if we can get some food into you."

 

The Healer walked toward the door and when she opened it, he could see Hermione standing outside, an arm around Rose and the other around Hugo.

 

"Rose!" he screamed as the door swung shut on his room in the Janus Thickey Ward.

 

(Please return to [Livejournal](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/76564.html) to comment, or comment in both places)


End file.
